


Trapdoor

by ronanlynqch



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Past Abuse, idk its neil josten what more, probably too OOC but who cares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 08:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10302506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronanlynqch/pseuds/ronanlynqch
Summary: Neil Josten's first day at Millport's really shitty High School.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HEY HI HELLO PLEase keep in mind this was a proyect for my literature class (lmao i got an A). they gave me a list of 30 words and told me to make a story with them. it had to be at least 500 words and i, being the laziest shit, did 665. english is also NOT my first language soo sorry in advance for all the nonsense. that being said, thank you for reading!

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Adapting, Nathaniel thought, was one of the easiest things in life. One lie here, one lie there, and _voilà_ , he converted into a different person. The first years on the run, Nathaniel had been reluctant about changing his name, and had trouble remembering all the information his mother compelled him to. He had though his mother and him where like the animals he had learned at school, migrating when the weather got bad (or his father, in this case). After seven years, however, he was willing to change it as much as he did his appearance, and that was a lot. For the past couple of hours, he has been Neil Josten, senior student in Millport’s shitty High School. Fortunately, the community there didn’t ask many questions. They also were clever enough not to associate with him, thankfully. Of course, some morons were persistent and tried to ease the tension, but Nathaniel never gave them the satisfaction of answering back. It was easier for him, that way when he eventually moved on, he´d leave with no strings attached.

         The bell rang just in time at eight o´clock, signalling the start of fist period. Thankfully, it was maths. Numbers just came naturally to him. It was just logic. He ran through the halls, barely paying attention to the building´s architecture. He practically threw himself at the door before the teacher could close it, but that only drew all his classmate´s attention to him. His anxiety instantly started acting against him, he didn’t want to be introduced to the whole class! The teacher beamed.

         “This is great! We haven’t had a new student in a couple of years, come on son, tell us your name and something about you.”

         His moustache was really distracting him, but he finally got hold of himself and replied, skipping the second statement. The teacher pursed his lips together but allowed Nathaniel to sit down, and he chose the only available seat beside the window. When he was pushing past the teacher he got a strong smell of cigarette smoke and nearly flinched away. That smell reminded him of his mother, and suddenly all he could see was a beach, a vehicle, a fire, and a corpse. He got snatched out of his near panic-attack by a hand of his shoulder, and it took all he had not to recoil. He thought he managed a blank expression, but some of his monsters must have leaked, because the teacher looked spooked.

         Nathaniel shook aside his concern and sat down. The teacher stood beside him for literally four minutes, but he refused to acknowledge him while taking out his things for the class. If this high school was anything like the others, he could bet his reputation would blow up as “the freak” before lunch. _Oh, well,_ he thought bitterly, _it’s not like this could drive me any crazier_. The teacher started writing down equations on the board and calling people forward to answer them. He heard the name “Abram” and nearly flinched for the second time that morning (he really needed to refine his acting skills). That had been the name his mother called him when his biological father wasn’t around to beat it out of her mouth.

         With an internal groan, he thought he needed to learn how to minimize his mother´s thoughts. She was not here anymore, and he was left alone with a list of all the contacts that somehow owed her something. He couldn’t just call them though, not even his uncle Stuart. Consequently, the outcome would be just being dragged into _another_ crime family, and he did _not_ want that. He was better off alone, anyway. That´s what he told himself every time he needed his mother´s steady hands when stitching himself up, or when he needed her urgent voice telling him to stay still while she cured his scratches when he was little. Resigned, he started writing down the equations in his notebook.


End file.
